


The Audition

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1890s, Average Harry, Inaccuracy, M/M, Prince Louis, Unfinished, never will be finished
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry auditions to be Prince Louis' partner. Set in 1890s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Audition

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2013, sorry for the horrible writing (if my writing has even improved since I was 13) (probably not). This is unfinished and probably never will be. But if you want to finish it or write something inspired by this, just let me know in the comments. I just wanted to post this because it's funny and horribly inaccurate.

It was the year 1892, London, United Kingdom, Europe. A boy stood behind a crimson curtain with numerous other lads who couldn’t be older than 25. A raven catwalk was getting its final touches of shiny perfection. But Harry Styles wasn’t a model. He wasn’t old enough to be a professional one at least, and didn’t find himself attractive; he knew models had a lot of confidence in their selves, but he didn’t. He was exceptionally ordinary. He wasn’t fit enough to be on a runway, he thought. But there was soon to be a catwalk beneath his feet and walking down said catwalk was going to be inevitable for Harry.

Why? This was an audition to become the prince’s partner.

Louis Tomlinson was the king’s only son, who was as old as Harry’s now deceased great-great grandmother. The king was going to die pretty soon, so the prince was going to become the new king of Europe. But the king wanted the young prince to have a partner, a nice person to help run the country. Harry wasn’t royalty material, he knew he wouldn’t get the part and it was just as humiliating to audition.

Harry whined, “Why do I have to do this?” He muttered to his mother, who simply put her hand up to silence him. Her sapphire eyes connected with her son’s ivy-colored ones, inherited from his father who was long gone now, and gave him a weak smile. “You know exactly why. This is a good opportunity to get me and you some money for us to survive,” her mother stated, smoothing out Harry’s grey button up with her rough palm. Harry pushed her hand away, “I don’t want to use him, it’s wrong and he’s royalty! I could go to prison for 150 years, mom.”

An older man brushed up close against Harry’s back as the backstage was becoming overflowing with myriad bodies. Harry, being the self-conscious teenager he was, straightened his back and looked at his mom with terrified eyes. He didn’t want to do this. He just wanted to go home.  
“I know, I know,” Anne, Harry’s mom, shushed. Harry rolled his eyes, tilting his head back in frustration. He let out a throaty groan, making the men/boys nearby grimace at his sloppy behavior. “Why is he even doing this? I get he’s a prince, but why this?” He grumbled to himself, smoothing out his crinkled shirt once again. His mum scoffed, “This is a tradition for royalty.” Was all Anne replied with, beginning to comb out Harry’s sloppy curls. Harry huffed, pouting slightly as his face turning a light pink.

Harry looked at the racks of optional clothing left by royalty servants, his mum seemingly debating on whether he should wear the white button up – that was probably two sizes too small – or stick to the grey button up. Harry began wondering too. “Mum, I think I like the white one better,” Harry said before he could process the words in his head. “Okay, but it’s starting pretty soon.” Anne mumbled, looking at the clock with the gold (real) border at the corner of the other wall. Harry didn’t reply, his embarrassment returning. “I’m not forcing you to do this; but it’ll just be a lot of help for our life. If I could get a job, I would. But I can’t, you know why. But, it’s your decision, if you don’t want to do this, then fine. We won’t.” Anne said after a few minutes of neither of them speaking.

Their gazes met, though his mum’s eyes were unfathomable. Harry bit his bottom lip. This was such a tough decision, Harry thought. Because if he doesn’t do it, it’ll be a selfish move against his mother. But if he does do it and ends up not eligible, it’ll still leave them with nothing but humiliation, but if he does actually get it (impossible!) then he’ll be using the prince! Maybe the prince wouldn’t care if he only did this to get proper food and money and a roof over his head. Harry reluctantly agreed, letting himself be taken in his mum’s hug. “Okay, I’ll do it,” He muttered quietly in his mum’s dark hair.

 

“Gentlemen, Prince Louis Tomlinson just stepped into the building. Five minutes!” A servant of the royal family shouted. Anne pulled away from the hug Harry really needed. Harry sat down on a chair in front of a now empty vanity, looking at his appearance in the dusty mirror. A young boy with baby fat clinging to his cheeks, dark, curly hair, green eyes, and very pale skin stared back. The reflection didn’t look happy.

“May I have your attention, please!” the same servant shouted, standing beside a curtain and angling his arm straight across on his right. “Form a line, he’s ready.” Harry stood up, feeling too anxious to function properly. The servant looked at the first guy and asked his name. “First, Forest Avender.” Forest had weird teeth but was utterly adorable overall. “State your name and age once you reach the end of the walk,” The servant whispered to Forest. 

Harry began biting his nails; he noticed that he was the sixteenth one in line, a few other guys behind him, and that he was sort of an outcast compared to all these boys. Maybe not an outcast, but defiantly the youngest.

When Forest disappeared behind the crimson curtains, Harry swore he got an unfocused peek of the catwalk. Harry but his lip, smoothing his trousers, and fixing the folded cuffs of his shirt.

Forest appeared where he disappeared a few minutes later, a grin exposing his uneven teeth. "Second, Alexander Prish," the servant announced, which Harry thought was ridiculous because they didn't need to know the names of their competition, just the bloody prince.

“This is it,” He told himself after half an hour, when the eleventh boy appeared from the curtain, a smile on his tan face. Harry inched closer to the servant every time a boy left, he held his head down.

"If I get chosen, this could save what’s left of my family,” He muttered, his “family” including just him and his mum. Once the fourteenth boy appeared, Harry felt like his chest would cave in as beads of sweat began forming.

Time blurred for a quick moment and Harry realized it was his turn as the servant whispered “State your name and age once you reach the end of the walk.” close to Harry's ear. Harry remembers him saying those exact words to Forest. Harry felt a lump in his throat as his heart pelted against his rib age repeatedly.

The light on the other side of the curtain momentarily blinded Harry when the servant opened it, and he hesitantly walked forward. What came to view shocked Harry. He expected the prince to be at least 30 with rubies and emeralds embedded into an expensive maroon cape. Not a really young guy wearing a normal grey button up and jacket with dark trousers and an actual gold crown on top of his light brown-coloured hair. Really young, Harry noticed. Must've been at least a couple years older than Harry.

Once Harry got to the end of the stage, his eyes blown wide in utter fear and nervousness. "Um," Harry squeaked out, his voice shaky. The prince had sharp blue eyes that bore into Harry's own. His expression was stoic and his posture was stiff, but his sharp blue eyes held something. Adoration? Pity? "Harry Styles... 17?" Harry forced out, pulling his eyes away from those vibrant blue ones and quickly turning around and practically jogging to the curtain.

Harry nearly sobbed in his mum's arms, his heart beating rapidly. Anne rubbed Harry's back. "Shush, darling. We gotta wait another hour or so, and if you're not eligible then we'll just go home and I'll never ask any favours ever again." Anne muttered, and Harry nodded. He really wanted it even if he won't admit it. The prince was actually attractive and Harry liked his eyes.

The last boys went through, about eight more, and then there was an intermission. Harry calmed himself, drank a glass of sparkling water, and untucked his button up from his trousers. Anne went out of the backstage room with the other visitors some boys brought with them, and Harry just wanted her beside him.


End file.
